


Matriarch Missy's Original and Authentic Earthen Holiday Cookies™

by Kuraiummei



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Fluffish, Holiday Harbinger 2018, Spectres off duty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei
Summary: Saren wakes up on his ship to the unexpected, courtesy of his former protégé (and all around menace), Nihlus.





	Matriarch Missy's Original and Authentic Earthen Holiday Cookies™

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady-Halibuts-Convos](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lady-Halibuts-Convos).



> A/N: Procrastinator, thy name is Kurai. Three hours to the deadline for 2018's Holiday Harbinger Exchange, and I've just finished this up. Whew! Well, [**Lady Halibut**](http://lady-halibuts-convos.tumblr.com), I truly hope you enjoy this gift to you!
> 
> A/N^2: As requested, Saren is entirely unindoctrinated! ...but he does have the augmentations, implants, genemods, and tech typical of a Spectre. I hope that’s okay with my giftee! I simply couldn’t write him as a vanilla Turian, because it wouldn’t make much sense for a special forces soldier. What he does have are the high end tech improvements that most ST&R agents would get to enable themselves on missions. Things like a subdermal com package, hearing augments, speed/strength/bone density genemods, biotic amp, etc. Also, please forgive the use of some ethnocentric body language! I try to write Turians very turian-y, but sometimes a more human-normal expression makes the point come through better. :3
> 
> A/N^3: All fandom author-unique terms, models, etc used with permission. n_n
> 
> Lexicon:  
> Hideth Turram -- A game played by two teams of fifteen players. A drellak hide is hung on a six metre tall pole in the center of a field that measures one hundred and fifty metres long by thirty metres wide. A twenty-four metre tall scaffolding tower stands at either end of the field. The field, which begins as turf, is soaked to provide a further obstacle, one that becomes only more and more difficult to surmount as it gets churned to mud. (Credit: Mizdirected)
> 
> Clawball - A galactic sport, (presumably Turian in origin because… claws?). Teams include the Raescir Rockets which had the legendary player Neno Raxirian. (Credit: Canon via Mass Effect wiki.)
> 
> Laetitius - (Cycle of Riches) Named because it is the time of year when crops and prey animals flourished, providing food enough for all. The harvest season across most of developed Palaven. (Credit: Mizdirected)
> 
> Betau - The first day of the Salarian New Year. Originally marking the end of winter in the southern hemisphere of Sur’kesh, Betau is traditionally a time of repaying debts and petitioning favors. (Credit: Canon via CDN)
> 
> Mashã - A flavorless, vaguely nutritious beet analogue that is stewed until soft. It makes a great base for more flavorful spices, as it goes through induction ports with ease. (Credit: Me... and why the heck did my brain supply all of that information for a random made up food word???)
> 
> Kakeka - A game of coordination and socializing for Turian fledglings, based around a ball tied to a post, in which the ball is rapidly tossed between individuals. If a player fails to rebound the ball onward (by accident or on purpose), or rebounds it toward no one, they must leave the circle. Continues until one player remains as winner. Physical distraction is not allowed, but verbal games are encouraged, and close calls are determined by group vote. (Credit: Me)
> 
> Tri - A short hand used by the locals of Triginta Petra’s colony and outlying bases. (Credit: Me. This is where I mindcanon that Nihlus is from, seeing as it’s a troublesome border planet, with plenty of room for a kid to grow up with Nihlus’ personality as alluded to from the background in his dossier.)
> 
> Trigina Petra - A low-density planet in comparison to Earth, Triginta Petra is also drier, with wide land masses that are largely desert. Its dextro-chirality native life has yet to make it out of the oceans, primarily producing cyanobacteria which provide a limited amount of oxygen in the atmosphere. A handful of Turians colonized the planet and attempted to introduce land plants. Their chief hurdle was the lack of good topsoil, which required imports and sophisticated farming practices to overcome. The farmer's maxim on Triginta Petra was "if you can last five seasons, you officially know what you're doing." (Credit: Mass Effect wiki)

Circa December 23, 2170

Saren’s usual movement toward consciousness was always one of two kinds. Either a slow, comfortable crawl toward cognizance when he knew he was somewhere safe, or in a flash of panic as old memories replayed themselves to inevitable conclusions. He never passed out fully when anywhere insecure. Dozed, at most. Regardless of what woke him, there were a few comforts that could be relied upon afterward.

His first protégé being one such constant. Nihlus went on missions with him often, and was likely to be raiding his kitchen, foraging for food to fill a seemingly bottomless stomach. Alternatively, the carmine-plated agent was tinkering with some new explosive device on the workbench if food had already been acquired.

His second protégé was another frequent presence. Avitus was introverted and thoughtful, with a knack for knowing when to visit with an offer of drinks and quiet company. If around, he was usually sipping on something spiked while watching Palaven’s latest _clawball_ tournaments on the largest vidscreen available.

On this particular morning, music drifted in through the bedroom door, set on low volume but distinctly alien. Paired with jovial humming and the faint scent of spices, it led the yawning agent to guess that Nihlus had come onboard. Not unpredictable, considering the ship was floating within range of the Citadel, and the green-eyed male was one of very few people who had access codes to the airlock.

Saren took a little time to lounge, head tilted to better hear the song playing. It sounded like a group of females crooning, though the words were indistinct. Curious, he accessed the software for his aural augments, and turned up the sensitivity on his hearing just a bit. His universal translator eventually got enough of a sample to detect the language and begin translating for him.

_‘dreaming of... white… just like… where treetops glisten… listen...’_

A silver-grey brow-ridge rose, bemused by the snippets of antiquated System's Alliance Common. Now he was certain it was Nihlus onboard. No other contact of his had such a love for alien culture… save for perhaps Benezia, and it was very unlikely the matriarch would visit unannounced. Or hum in a deep countertenor, for that matter.

With a sigh, Saren escaped the comfort of his sleeping nook, restored his hearing to normal volume, and padded into the corridor. The ship was warm enough, just slightly lower than Turian normal, that he didn’t feel the need for clothing or a robe.

As he crossed the hallway and stepped into the ship’s tiny kitchen, a familiar carmine-colored form came into view, busily turning the mess hall into a literal mess. The compact kitchen could accommodate no more than six on the benches and table that sat to the left of the entry, leaving most of the room for the steel counters and appliances needed to make large, nutritious meals. Food enough for a soldier who often returned to his ship ravenous from extensive biotic use.

Nihlus was in that far right corner, making use of the counter tops along the back wall. Saren expected that whatever the other Spectre was making, it would either be delicious... or offensive. Extremes of success or failure were a hallmark of his charming friend. As was having the spirit’s own luck.

The silver-grey agent took up a side-lean in the doorway to observe the culinary proceedings, giving him time to estimate the current scenario. Perhaps the food would be edible… perhaps it was better to go back to bed.

Nihlus was rolling out a ball of dark brown dough, shoulders and crest bouncing and shifting to the music as he worked.. When the mixture was flattened to about half the width of a datapad, Nihlus set an oddly shaped cutter atop the sheet and stamped down to remove a matching shaped bit of dough.

Amused, Saren watched as the other male went through the process several times, comparing it to other cooking traditions he had memorized. It was not an unfamiliar method, several Turian dishes used similar design tricks, but the dough itself was rather… different.

He gave the air a sniff, trying to identify the mixture’s components. It smelled spicy, tangy, and a little bit savory. Saren took a few steps closer, now observing the proceedings with interest. The batter’s consistency and color resembled the instructions on the datapad Nihlus had propped up behind his chosen workstation. The odds tilted in favor of ‘edible’.

Looking about, the silver-grey agent noticed that something was already in the oven baking. That would account for the spicy smell rising on the air. Saren glanced over the ingredients on the brushed-metal counter top, trying to further pinpoint what was in the mix. He spied a _mostly_ levo ingredient line up, with recognizable if not familiar food components. His brow-ridge rose for the second time this morning. Granted, their digestive implants allowed for the consumption of opposite chirality food given that neither had specific allergies… but it wasn’t exactly optimal nutrition.

Thus, Saren decided it was likely the current concoction was a treat of some kind. If it was, indeed, from a traditional or vetted recipe, and not the far-flung corners of the extranet. Absently mulling over the integrity of the recipe, the laconic agent glanced over at the baking tray of finished shapes.   

They were formed as... tiny... bipeds. Tiny... humans?

Saren blinked, twice, mildly baffled, and decided that purely visual deduction could not solve this mystery. His innate curiosity demanded further investigation.

“Nihlus. Why are you-”

“Gah!” his first protégé declared with a full body jump and a half turn, sending a tiny dough-person flying through the air. It collided with the wall, and after sticking for a moment, fell to the floor.

Saren blinked again, raising his gaze from the fallen treat back to Nihlus. “Ah, unfortunate. You have a casualty.”

Nihlus chuffed at him, hooking the fallen bit on a talon and tossing it in the recycler. “Spirits, I didn’t hear you come in. Shuffle your feet or something when you walk.”

Saren tilted his head, then tossed his crest in a mild refusal, “No. More importantly, what are you cooking and why?”

“They’re called jinjur breb men,” Nihlus declared with his customary grin, picking one up to show off even as the alien words came out awkward and unfamiliar on his larynx, “and I’m making them to eat.”

 

 

  


 

Subvocals skeptical, Saren leaned in around Nihlus’ lanky form to inspect the base dough more closely. It smelled pleasant, at least. “They are shaped like a sapient being.”

“It’s traditional,” the other agent assured him. “They’re supposed to be shaped like small people, and you make their faces with candy bits.”

Saren’s nose plates flexed with mild distaste. “Human candy is made with an excess of C₆H₁₂O₆.”

The silver-grey torin could sense Nihlus’ amusement before he even began to reply. “Saren, I’m not going to cover our cookie things with _sugar_. I’ve got some uh… this stuff.”

Nihlus swapped his example for a glass jar, held up for inspection with a label that translated to something like ‘tangy root candy dots’. “It’s made of the same jinjur stuff, so it should go with the taste of the breb men just fine.”

He hummed in reply, suppressing the skepticism in his subvocals for Nihlus’ sake. The younger male seemed very proud of his efforts thus far, and it would not do to diminish that unless the attempt was actually non-viable.

Clearly confident in the questionable, hybrid creation, the other male returned to his culinary efforts. Stamp by stamp, the baking tray continued to fill with dough people.

Saren took the opportunity to put together a breakfast not consisting largely of levo chirality food. Hot, purified water from the tap was poured over a sachet of kava in a dappled grey mug, the kind specifically made with a lip for pouring into a Turian mouth. While that steeped, he pulled a pre-made meal from the stasis drawer of his cooling unit, and set it inside the heating unit to warm.

When the stimulant drink and lightly sauced bowl of stir-fry were ready to be consumed, Saren tossed the used sachet in the recycler. After a long inhale over steaming kava, he set it down on the table to cool, and moved to observe the baking progress with his food in hand.

Nihlus, true to form, was back to humming along with the latest song on his alien playlist, and slightly shimmying to the tune as he worked. Saren repressed a smile, finding a comfortable lean on the counter edge and setting into his meal.

It was a matter of minutes before the thoughtful agent had another question about the ‘breb men’.

“Humans eat these regularly?”

Nihlus flicked his crest in a negative, gingerly settling another cut-out on the nearly full tray. “Mmno, they’re just for the festival season, which is themed for the… I guess it would be their monsoon season? For Earth’s northern hemisphere.”

Saren hummed softly around a mouthful of stir fry, swallowing it down before attempting to untangle the cultural oddity. “They have festivals while it is pouring rain? Specifically in one half of the world? I know Tevos has been espousing the Systems Alliance and their… reasonable natures but-”

His tall friend kicked him in the ankle for the teasing dig, albeit gently, and went to cut the last of the shapes. “No, it’s even more ridiculous… they have festivals while it’s _snowing_. And the people who live on the opposite side of the planet still decorate things with snowflakes and fuzzy red snow gear. And ahh… elfs… elephants… no elfs… yeah, I’m pretty sure ‘elfs’ are involved.”

“My translator only caught most of that, and what it did catch is rather disconcerting.”

Nihlus flicked his mandibles in dismissal, effectively diminishing the strangeness of Human holidays with a single reminder. “At least it’s not Betau?”

Eating utensil poised halfway to his mouth, the laconic Spectre offered nothing more than a wordless grunt. He swallowed another bite whole before turning away to reacquire the kava mug.

“Then again, that is _such_ a fun holiday…” Nihlus offered with deceptive levity, trading a baked tray from the oven in exchange for his latest rows of dough people.

In his opinion, Salarians and their ‘favor trading’ holiday could keep their game of myriad requests to themselves. Once, Spectre Bau had tried to include him with an unspecified request for white flowers. Assuming the call had been work related and serious, Saren had shown up at his home in full kit with a cart full of colorless bouquets. Everything the florist had in stock, in white.

Bau’s entire apartment floor had come out to see what was happening when the amicable Salarian had erupted into high pitched peals of laughter at the showing. Their natural sounds of distress and extreme amusement were decidedly close in tone, drawing much attention. Thus, thanks to the population density that the people of Sur’kesh preferred to live in, several dozen Salarians and no few Asari had borne witness to Spectre Bau embracing him and demanding to know what he wanted in return for such a ‘wondrous fulfillment of his favor’.

Saren had been nonplussed, asking specifically for _nothing,_ and left.

Of course, Nihlus had the entire thing on camera, lifted from the building’s security feed after the fact. Everyone he knew or cared about had seen it.

Avitus had seen it.

Sparatus had seen it.

Desolas had seen it.

Even _Abrudas_ had seen it. Much to his... dismay. Few things made his brother's stoic mate do more than grin, but any reference to flowers, hugs, or favors when Saren visited home, and her eyes would sparkle in vivid amusement, even if the Lt did not precisely  _say_ anything.

Saren took several swallows of kava, calmly considering if his first protégé was still due revenge for spreading that vid around.

“Stop thinking about poisoning me, I’m trying to decorate,” came from across the kitchen, a smirk hidden in flange between the words.

The silver-grey Spectre chuffed, setting his empty bowl down but taking the mug with him back over to the counter top. Nihlus was stirring what looked like Quarian _mashã_ with food coloring in it.

“...decorate?” With flavorless, colored paste?

Nihlus merely shoved the bowl at him, and began working open a pastry bag fit with a fine tip. “Yes, decorate. We have to sort of… color them in. With outfits or whatever we feel like. Then the jinjur dots go on as buttons and eyes.”

Saren set his mug aside, idly stirring the partially incorporated reddish mixture. “This seems… uncomfortably close to ritualistic cannibalism.”

Nihlus began to snicker at the idea, humming an affirmative as he held out the pastry bag to be filled. The older male complied with the unspoken request, spooning red-pink _mashã_ into the decorating tool. “Your obsession with the holidays of other cultures is beyond me, Nihlus. You could simply visit one of our worlds in a month, enjoy proper protein-based festival food, and… games and such.”

The green-eyed Spectre trilled quietly, already interested in the topic. He seemed to truly love celebrations. “Next month is the end of _Laetitius,_ right? Mmmnn… that sounds fun. We should go. What sorts of games will there be?”

Saren prevaricated by focusing intently on his spooning duties. Eventually the weight of an unanswered question, and the interim silence, bullied him into offering a reply. “Various kinds of games, I’m sure. _Claw-ball_ or _hiddeth turam._ Perhaps, _kakeka_ for the fledglings _._ ”

Nihlus pulled the filled bag away, spinning the top closed and setting it aside. He drew a small bottle of blue in, tipping it carefully over the red-pink mix that remained. “‘Various’, eh? Sounds like you’ve never been.”

He ignored the neutral not-question, in favor of blending the contents of the bowl into a purple hue. “Mmm.”

“You wanna go? They didn’t have stuff like this when I was growing up on _Tri,_ and I’d like to experience it, at least once.”

“There are several contacts who-”

His protégé cut him off and opened another decorating bag. “Hey, it’ll be fun. I’ll even file the paperwork for our down time.”

“I have a long list of more expedient matters than attending a festival, Nihlus.”

“But _I_ need some shore leave, and you know how bored I get, left to my own devices…”

No one would believe him if he tried to explain how the other Spectre regularly blackmailed him into taking down time. The threat was subtle, but he had known the lanky agent - _trained_ with him- long enough to pick up on it when simple sounding words were actually _loaded_.

Saren sighed and carried on helping the other agent prepare the next several colors of decorative paste. “I suppose. No more than two cycles, though.”

Nihlus preened, subvocals smug as he spun closed the last decorative bag. “That’s plenty of time to eat too much food, get drunk, and lose to the locals at _clawball_.”

“I am not becoming inebriated around strangers.”

“Oh sure, but I am, and someone has to get me home.”

Saren resisted the urge to snort, retrieving his kava and sipping on it as the other agent began to draw a purple shirt on the first of the cooled breb men. “As long as you do not expect me to carry you.”

“You can literally carry me with just your brain,” Nihlus complained at his stipulation, making Asari-like scalp tentacles on the purple-shirt cookie.

Rather than continue that conversation trail, which would surely, somehow, result in ill advised use of biotics in a messy kitchen. Saren chose to change tracks instead. “Mmmn. Ensure that you send me a copy of the time off forms.”

“Can do,” was the cheerful reply as Nihlus moved on to a second cookie, then a third, and fourth. By the time the carmine-plated male was moving on to his fifth jinjur creation, Saren had finished his kava and was deliberating between another cup or getting to work on the post-op paperwork of his last mission.

It had been a long one, and he was… rather tired still. Mentally, more than anything.  

“You can decorate some, if you want to, Saren.”

Said Spectre tilted his crest in consideration, talons clinking in a flutter against his mug. He did enjoy the artful side of baking… not to mention the eating side, what with a biotic’s appetite. “Do you have examples you are working off of, or…?”

Nihlus grinned at him, holding out a bag of blue _masha._ “Or am I just making it up as I go? Obviously the latter, but-” the other male paused, using a mostly flour-free knuckle to scroll the datapad recipe upward to a display picture. “ -they’re not too far off?”

The skillfully decorated bipedal forms on-screen were significantly more neat and reasonably colored than Nihlus’ rainbow hued, multi-species results. Though his partner’s attempts were arguably more charming. One had even been decorated to look like a Salarian with a crown of root candies between their horns.

Saren set his mug down, accepting the decorating bag and surveying the myriad attempts, then the example images, before getting to work. At the very least, the sooner the baking was done, the sooner Nihlus would be able to clean up the mess he had made. There was flour in many, many places.

In the end, Nihlus’ many trays of jinjur breb men -which the extranet exclaimed was ‘Matriarch Missy's Original and Authentic Earthen Holiday Cookies™’- made nearly three dozen ‘cookies’. One tray had burned, and with the one casualty from earlier, it made for thirty five survivors.

 

 

  


 

Saren decided his favorite was Nihlus’ remake of himself, with over-sized fangs and thick mandibles.

Beside him, the other agent chuckled, and pointed to one breb men in particular that looked vaguely like a certain Citadel Councilor in cookie form. “Check it out. It’s a tiny, dessert-version of Tevos. I’ve gotta give it to them.”

Knowing the Councilor, they would probably be highly amused. Saren nodded agreeably at the idea of gifting it to the Asari. Tevos could use some levity, all things considered with the the latest troubles between Citadel Space and the Skyllian Verge.

With a considering hum, Nihlus' talons moved to point out a finished pair on his side of the cooking space. “Oh… you know those two you made look sorta like Valern and Sparatus…”

Saren made no comment.

“Mind If I save those?” Nihlus asked, “I should give them their miniatures too. Valern will probably have me followed for a month thinking it has a deeper meaning, it’ll be hilarious.”

“ ...very well.” His protégé was not exactly wrong about the likely outcome, and it would be somewhat entertaining to bother the clever Councilor with an entirely innocent baked gift.

In recompense, Saren claimed a vague likeness of Jondam, and a very bad rendition of Tela. He could tell Nihlus had been trying for Spectre Vasir from distinctive purple facial markings, though that was... about the only likeness allowed by that amount of paste topping.   
  
By the time the two Spectres docked at the Citadel no few number of the cookies had been eaten, but those that remained were neatly packaged and ready to be delivered. Though neither agent paid much attention to Earth customs, they ended up spreading a little bit of joy (and no small amount of confusion) in pretty much exactly the spirit of the holidays. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~~~Matriarch Missy's Original and Authentic Earthen Holiday Cookies™~~~~~  
> [Translated into your local language from Thessian Common.]  
> 1 cup shortening  
> 1 cup sugar  
> 1 egg [avian]  
> 1 cup molasses [shop now for Authentic Earthen Molasses on amazongle.extranet.com]  
> 2 tablespoons vinegar  
> 5 cups sifted flour  
> 1.5 teaspoons baking soda  
> .5 teaspoons salt  
> 2 teaspoons powdered ginger  
> 1 teaspoon powdered cinnamon  
> 1 teaspoon powdered clove
> 
> Directions:  
> 1\. Thoroughly cream shortening with sugar.  
> 2\. Stir in egg, molasses, and vinegar, then beat well.  
> 3\. Shift together dry ingredients in a new bowl.  
> 4\. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients, mix well.  
> 5\. Place in chill unit for at least 1/7th of a cycle. [Local approximate: '3 hours']  
> 6\. Preheat your convection oven to 735 GU. [Local approximate: '375° F ']  
> 7\. On a lightly floured surface, roll dough to approximately 1/8th inch.  
> 8\. Cut out with shaped cookie cutters, and place on greased cookie sheet.  
> 9\. Bake in convection oven for 10 to 12 GM. [Local approximate: '5-6 minutes']  
> 10\. Let cookies cool slightly before moving to rack.  
> 11\. After cookies are fully cool, decorate as desired.
> 
> xoxo  
> -Matriarch Missy, The Queen of Batter
> 
>  
> 
> And now, for your reading pleasure, a couple of relevant CDN articles:
> 
> Cerberus Daily News-  
> 12/13/2010 - "Off Stage" and "Blasto Saves Christmas" Top Weekend Box Office  
> “The weekend box office is in, and holiday fare is being passed over like bad fruitcake. The dance flick "Off Stage" opened at number one, raking in a tidy 2.73 billion credits. Loosely based on the true story of a paraplegic Asari dancer who learns how to move almost entirely through biotics, the movie was a hit with critics who lauded newcomer Shai L'Tanas' performance. Holding steady at number two, "Blasto Saves Christmas" absconded with 1.9 billion credits from audiences who can't get enough of the hanar-exploitation hero. Sharpstickintheeye.com calls the sequel "wince-worthy." Coming in at number three was "This One's Hanukkah Cheer" with 955 million, followed by "With Genericized Holiday Spirit" at 673 million. "Teenage Ninja Kwanzaa Force" scraped up 448 million worth of laughs, landing last on the top-earner list.”
> 
> 07/18/2010 - Systems Alliance Prime Minister Meets with Salarian Dalatrass  
> “Systems Alliance Prime Minister Amul Shastri met with Dalatrass Narra on Betau, the first day of the salarian New Year. Originally marking the end of winter in the southern hemisphere of the salarian homeworld of Sur’kesh, Betau is traditionally a time of repaying debts and petitioning favors -- and today was no exception. The two spoke about Earth's superconductor supplies, Sur'Kesh's soil-enriching burngrass, and the inflation of the galactic credit. Shastri gave Narra an Arabian horse with implant reins and genetic material cloned from Magnolia, one of George Washington's steeds. In return, Narra, knowing Shastri's love for flying, presented him with a classic Tess Auburn 2166 aircar with gwaskin upholstery.”
> 
> A/N: "This One's Hanukkah Cheer". I laughed so hard I snorted my tea. XD


End file.
